


flip your lid

by doremifasorashige, thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, magic hat, miyatama endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doremifasorashige/pseuds/doremifasorashige, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Tamamori just needed a weird, ugly hat as a push in the right direction.





	flip your lid

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (hats).

It starts with a hat.

Well, realistically, it starts with box. A simple brown paper box that you get in the mail. It sits in the middle of Tamamori’s bed, with no markings or address other than his own and “To Tamamori Yuta-kun” in perfect black kanji.

Tamamori drops his bag off to the side of his room, looking at the box curiously. He knows he hasn’t ordered anything, doesn’t have the time with all the promos for his new drama, and he knows his mother didn’t get it since she had asked him about it.

“Did you do this?” Tamamori asks, dragging his little brother into the room by his arm, pointing at the box on his bed.

His brother shakes off Tamamori’s hand from his arm and rolls his eyes. “No, I have better things to do than to troll you with packages.” He quickly gets out of Tamamori’s room before he thinks of a response.

Staring out the empty doorway, Tamamori brushes his bangs to the side slightly before turning back to the mysterious box. What if it’s some creepy fangirl thing, and there’s a camera inside waiting to record everything he does? Something could jump out of it and attack him. A small animal, with sharp claws and teeth ready to chew off his face!

Tamamori shivers. “That’s disgusting,” he says, but then he thinks of anything Miyata could probably do if the box was from him and he shivers again, deeming Miyata a bigger threat than crazy fangirls.

What Tamamori doesn’t expect to find inside the box is a hat. A bowler hat with weird flaps in some cheetah print that makes him think of Fujigaya, and even more so when Tamamori notices this pink trim around the edge and a feather finish. The feather is probably the best thing about it, nice solid color evening out everything else.

“It’s hideous,” Tamamori says out loud walking over to Teto’s cage to show him that hat, and if he wasn’t an idol, Tamamori would have probably thrown it out instead of trying it on to see how it fits, checking his reflection in the mirror. It’s perfect. Maybe he could rock this after all. And it’s super warm.

Nikaido is the only one there when he gets to work, uncharacteristically silent. Tamamori figures he’s just engrossed in something or another until he lifts his head to find Nikaido staring at him, intense and a little creepy.

“It’s the hat, right?” Tamamori asks, pointing to it. “It’s atrocious, I know, but it’s really warm.”

“It’s _hot_ ,” Nikaido says, his voice low.

“Same difference,” Tamamori says. “Your way just sounds weird.”

Suddenly Nikaido stands up and stalks toward Tamamori, who cringes in preparation for the other man to snatch the hat from his head (though in all honestly, Nikaido’s entire closet far surpasses the level of this hat), but the warmth remains on his head as a new warmth is pressed to his lips.

It takes him a second to realize he’s being _kissed_ , by _Nikaido_ of all people, and by the time he realizes it he’s already kissing back. He’s only done this a couple times with girls who were weirder than Tamamori himself is, but this time seems much different. Particularly since Nikaido is grabbing him by the face with both hands and taking full control of the kiss, backing them up into the closest surface, which happens to be a desk.

“ _Ow_ ,” Tamamori whines into the kiss, reaching behind himself to move the stapler that was digging into his back. “What the hell, Nika?”

Nikaido blinks at him, breathing heavily like he’d just run a marathon, and Tamamori’s head feels strangely cold. “Well that was fucking weird.”

“I’ll say!” Tamamori exclaims. “I’m not Kitamitsu, okay? Don’t just walk up and do that for no reason.”

“Stop talking about me,” Kitayama says as he walks in the door. “It’s all true.”

Tamamori tries to make himself look like he wasn’t just accosted on a desk, finding his hat in the process. He stuffs it in his pocket since he’s already inside and more than warm enough, no thanks to Nikaido.

The rest of the day is less than eventful as usual, Tamamori spends it spacing and stealing glances at Nikaido who seems no different than any other day. He can’t wrap his head around just why Nikaido would do such a thing, they’re close but not that close, that’s something he’d expect more from Senga who is all loving, or Miyata.

“Tama-chan,” Fujigaya’s voice filters through his thoughts, bringing him back to earth. Staring blankly ahead, Tamamori looks up at Fujigaya who’s giving him this weird look. Nothing like Nikaido’s from earlier, just a look that says ‘stop being weird’. “How long are you going to sit there?”

That’s when Tamamori notices that everyone else has left; off to do other things, jobs, for the day. “Oh,” he says, sliding his chair back and standing. “Sorry.”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes and pushes Tamamori out the door. He’s got his own work to do, filming for his drama is still going, but Tamamori is thankful for the push, mind still confused from Nikaido’s attack earlier.

“Has Nika suddenly kissed you?”

Stopping in his tracks, Fujigaya turns to look behind him at Tamamori who is slowly pulling his hat from his pocket and adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “No, I thought we weren’t that kind of group.” He scrunches up his nose.

Tamamori blinks. “What?”

“The kind of group that makes out with each other, like A.B.C-z,” he informs eyeing Tamamori’s hat. “What the fuck is that?” Snatching it from Tamamori’s hands, Fujigaya turns it over in his hands, laughing to himself and making stupid faces like the time he had to touch bras on television. “This is the worst hat in existence.”

Making grab for it but misses, even with his long arms, Tamamori whines. “But it’s really warm. Give it back.”

Fujigaya holds it out of reach, keeping a hand on Tamamori’s chest as it dangles in the air and he turns it around even more. “Calm down, I don’t want your stupid hat.” He pushes at Tamamori’s chest a little, throwing him off balance, putting space between them. “This is as bad as the shit Nika wears,” Fujigaya says and puts the hat on Tamamori’s head.

“Warmth wins over appeal,” Tamamori says, but the end comes out in a muffle as Fujigaya presses their lips together.

It’s just as shocking as the first time, but Fujigaya doesn’t stop at kissing and Tamamori falls limp in the strong arms that embrace him and hold him close. Very close. So closely that he can feel all of Fujigaya against him, his chest and thighs in addition to those lips that pry Tamamori’s open. They don’t have to work very hard, Tamamori realizes a little shamefully as he wraps his arms around Fujigaya’s neck and kisses back. Fujigaya smells nice, even after a full day of work, and after only a few seconds Tamamori fully understands why girls basically lose their clothes whenever Fujigaya even looks at them.

Then he feels something else press against him and jerks in surprise, then shivers at the soft moan that dies on his tongue as his back quickly finds the wall. Fujigaya is _hard_ and _grinding against him_ and absolutely nothing in Tamamori’s body finds anything wrong with this. Fujigaya’s hands drop to grope Tamamori’s ass, which feels nicer than he had expected it to, especially when one hand drops to grab him by the back of the thigh and lift it a little, getting a much better angle at which to rub against him.

“Gaya—” he gets out between kisses, but Fujigaya’s next moan has Tamamori arching and pushing back. He wants to reach down and touch Fujigaya but he doesn’t have the nerve, playing with the hair on the back of his head instead, which Fujigaya seems to like judging by the way he moves faster. Tamamori starts gasping because he’s embarrassingly close, trying to push at Fujigaya’s shoulders to stop him—or at least slow him down—but all he ends up doing is pulling him closer and kissing him harder.

It’s Fujigaya who finishes first, shuddering against him with the deepest, sexiest moan that Tamamori feels on his tongue, which is inevitably what gets him off as well. He clings to Fujigaya longer than necessary, a little off-balance from doing this _standing up_ , but Fujigaya seems to be preoccupied with catching his breath and doesn’t seem bothered by it.

When they finally part, the first thing Tamamori does is take off his coat and hat because he feels like he’s burning alive. Passing over the completely random and highly inappropriate approach, that may have just been his hottest sexual experience ever. He gapes at Fujigaya as the other man lifts his head, unable to form words after what had just happened between them.

“Guess we are that kind of group after all,” Fujigaya says in a daze, then turns to leave.

Tamamori watches him walk away, feeling confused and really gross as he starts to move. Thankfully he has the night off and a full day of drama filming tomorrow, giving him time to _not_ look at either Fujigaya or Nikaido. After a couple days, he reluctantly meets up with Miyata who whines about missing him, but the hot, delicious ramen is worth it.

“You got a new hat,” Miyata says, almost mechanically.

“Yeah, it’s ugly.” Tamamori grins. “Do you like it?”

Miyata eyes him a little differently than usual. “It’s nice.”

“Hey,” Tamamori says suddenly, feeling a little uneasy at bringing this up with Miyata, particularly in public. But Miyata is his best friend and Tamamori tells him everything, so here goes. “Both Nikaido and Fujigaya kissed me the last time we all met.”

“Kissed you?” Miyata repeats, looking both surprised and a little angry. “Like kissed you kissed you?”

“Like tongue-in-mouth up-against-surfaces kissed me,” Tamamori clarifies, and Miyata’s eyes widen. “Did I suddenly get more attractive or something?”

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to get more attractive,” Miyata says quietly.

Tamamori rolls his eyes. “Of course you would say that. You don’t have a sudden desire to ravish me, do you?”

“Not sudden, no,” Miyata answers.

“So weird.” Tamamori shakes his head and returns to slurping his noodles.

Miyata twitches when he puts his hat back on to leave, but nothing happens. Tamamori’s a little grateful for it; he’s running out of people he can look in the eye at work. He’s only a little bit nervous when the group meets up again; he keeps casting glances around him as we walks in the building, hoping that he doesn’t get ambushed again, clutching onto his coat in his arms.

No one acts any differently when Tamamori enters the room, putting his stuff off to the side and out of the way, especially not Nikaido or Fujigaya. He doesn’t know if their lack of breaching the subject bothers him or not, but Tamamori sure as hell isn’t going to bring it up.

“Yo!” Senga says loudly, slapping Tamamori on the back as he enter the room all smiles and energy. The force of Senga’s hit causes Tamamori to drop what’s left in his hands. “Oh, Tama-chan got a new hat!” He picks it up and turns it over in his hands. “Looks like something Nika-chan would wear,” he giggles, handing the hat back to Tamamori then going off to sit right between Fujigaya and Nikaido, successfully butting into their conversation.

Yokoo looks at Tamamori curiously from where he’s sitting checking his phone, taking in Tamamori’s absent gaze as he stares at his hat. “Everything alright?”

Looking up, Tamamori meets Yokoo’s eyes and nods slowly. “Yeah, just…tired,” he lies, slipping the hat into his bag before going over to the soft chair to sit in until Mitaya undoubtedly comes in and bothers him.

They’re on a break later when Tamamori slips out of the room. He stands in one of the fire escapes, pulling his hat over his head to keep him partially warm. He’s just lighting up when the door opens behind him with a loud creek, as most of these doors do.

“I honestly don’t know how they can all be so loud,” Yokoo’s voice comes from behind him, causing Tamamori to jump to the side slightly. Yokoo’s eyes are closed and he’s rubbing his temple, signalling the oncoming headache.

“More like, how can Kitamitsu sleep through it every time,” Tamamori mumbles around his cigarette, slipping his free hand into his pocket.

Tamamori enjoys the comfortable silence between them, liking how Yokoo doesn’t have to talk when just standing in the same space as someone.

“You’re going to get sick,” Yokoo says just after Tamamori shivers; he would make a comment on how Yokoo is like everyone’s mother, but it dies on his tongue when he turns to look at him.

His cigarette falls to the concrete below their feet as Yokoo pushes him up against the solid wall. It’s cold through his sweater, making him automatically lean into the warmth of Yokoo’s body even if it’s not his intentions. Their teeth knock together from the force with which Yokoo kisses him, getting the angle all wrong. Cold fingers send chills through Tamamori’s body when Yokoo brings his hands up to hold his face, making him gasp. The slide of Yokoo’s tongue in his mouth isn’t all that unappealing, coaxing his own and having him kiss back.

Tamamori feels the light drag of Yokoo’s teeth on his bottom lip, pulling a slight whimper from his throat.

They’re all angles and hard joints against each other, nothing that ideal, but Tamamori can’t help but pull Yokoo closer, slowly losing himself in the kisses and the delicate way his hands slide along his neck.

The door jerks open next to them just as Yokoo pulls back for a quick second. “You’ve been out here for—” Kitayama is staring between them, Tamamori probably some embarrassing shade of red, lips bruised, and panting with his hands holding onto Yokoo’s waist tightly. “Don’t let me interrupt.” Kitayama smirks, leaning casually on the door. “Wouldn’t want to get in between anything.”

Yokoo lets go of Tamamori without a second glance. “But you would, Hiromitsu,” he says, and the grin Kitayama gives in return is so impossibly dirty that Tamamori has to force himself to walk ahead of them back to the others, holding his hat close to his person and hiding behind Miyata for the rest of the day.

Predictably, it’s Kitayama who approaches him next, paying him a house visit after a week of brutal drama filming. “What is the deal with you?” he greets him once Tamamori’s mother fetches her son from his room. “You’re not usually such a slut.”

“ _What_?” Tamamori squeals, stretching his neck back to see if anyone inside might have overheard. “You don’t just say things like that at the front door!”

“Come outside then,” Kitayama tells him, looking unimpressed as he folds his arms.

Bewildered, Tamamori grabs for his coat and hat and calls out to his mom that he’s going outside for a few. He’s rushing to pull his gloves on as he closes the door and urges Kitayama as far away from the windows as he can.

“Is it drugs, Tama-chan?” Kitayama asks seriously. “Is the fame getting to your head? Ugh, I didn’t think I’d have to do another one of these interventions until Nikaido got popular.”

“What are you even on about?” Tamamori hisses, buttoning his coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck, wishing it could cover the flush on his face that’s not in any way from the cold.

“You’ve kissed three members of our group in the past two weeks,” Kitayama says.

“They kissed me!” Tamamori exclaims, then remembers where he is and lowers his voice. They’re still too close to the door, he thinks as he shoves Kitayama around to the side behind the trash cans. “I don’t know why they suddenly did it, either. You’d have to ask them.”

“Oh, so it _is_ the ego.” Kitayama sighs. “You’re better than this, Tama-chan.”

Tamamori pulls his hat on a little too roughly and fixes his sternest eyes on Kitayama. “I do not have an ego!”

Something flashes in Kitayama’s eyes, something Tamamori recognizes from his previous encounters. He almost expects it this time, but Kitayama’s mouth still manages to take him by surprise because _damn_ can he kiss. And Tamamori’s fairly certain he has a good basis for comparison by now. He’s much shorter than the others, but that just gives Tamamori leverage to take control for once, giving in to his desire to pull Kitayama closer to him.

“You kissed three members of our group,” Kitayama says again, pressing the words to Tamamori’s lips, “and none of them were me.”

His deep voice has Tamamori grasping for more, reaching down to grab onto Kitayama’s firm ass and pulling a low groan from him. He really wants to go inside, take Kitayama to his room and do this properly, but he doesn’t want to stop and the words ‘heat of the moment’ have never been so ironic before when it’s starting to snow outside.

A hand gropes him right between the legs and he makes a shocked noise, but it’s muffled by Kitayama’s tongue and fades into a soft moan as Kitayama rubs him to full hardness through his sweatpants. Tamamori knows it’s going to happen when Kitayama unties the string, but he still hisses when that cold hand slips inside and touches him directly. It warms up quickly, though, and then Tamamori’s moaning again, pushing into the friction as Kitayama starts to stroke him properly.

“Me too, come on,” Kitayama whispers, his fingers already unfastening his fly by the time Tamamori gets there. Kitayama slips off the glove and practically shoves Tamamori’s hand down his pants, and now they’re both panting into each other’s mouths as they pull each other off as fast as possible.

This time Tamamori comes first, but Kitayama’s not that far behind and they keep kissing until it feels like things are starting to freeze in Tamamori’s pants. “Do you get it now?” Tamamori asks.

“Mm,” Kitayama replies noncommittally, blinking a little as he pulls away and slumps to the side. “Do you think I could come inside for a second?”

Tamamori knows that Kitayama’s going to pass out the minute he sits down, though he’s only out for twenty minutes or so. Tamamori is relaxing on his bed when Kitayama wakes, stretching out right next to him. He expects to be attacked again now that they’re behind closed doors with a bed, but Kitayama just thanks him for the nap and leaves.

Tamamori won’t admit that he’s disappointed.

As this presses on, Tamamori isn’t sure what to think anymore. With the better half of the group out of the way, he doesn’t know whether to just accept things as they are or to start questioning the others, asking them why the sudden interest in his mouth.

This is where Miyata would say: “Everyone’s just realizing how beautiful you are,” and he kind of wants to gag from how easily his brain can supply that information.

“You’re lost in space again,” Miyata says, staring right up at him after getting off the train. “Do I need to get a search party?”

“What?” His eyes snap up to meet Miyata’s dark, unreadable ones, then shoot down to Miyata’s lips wondering if he’s going to be mauled by him next right here in public. It could happen, Miyata is standing close enough, breath coming out in warm minty puffs on Tamamori’s face. “Too close,” Tamamori says suddenly, and brushes past to head home.

Miyata’s staying over for the night, which, really, Tamamori has no idea why he even agreed with the way all the members seem to be trying to make out with him. He doesn’t think he can take much more of this.

Nothing happens; Miyata is as he always is, terribly close and in Tamamori’s space, but not doing anything that would surely freak him out (any more than usual). And when they go to bed, Miyata keeps basically to himself as they squeeze into Tamamori’s bed that is clearly not meant for two people. The rapid beating of his heart, and constant knot in his stomach that something, anything, might happen during the night makes it nearly impossible for Tamamori to sleep. It would be nice if this all made sense.

“Kamenashi-kun’s giving you the creeper eye,” Fujigaya says a few days later.

Tamamori looks up, and sure enough down the hall is Kamenashi, eyes locked perfectly on what seems to be his favorite kouhai.

Fujigaya shivers. “He looks like he wants to devour you.”

Or shove his tongue down my throat, Tamamori thinks watching as Kamenashi tries to make his way down the hall, telling Tanaka to get out of the way.

“Maybe he’ll serve you up on a plate and eat you nice and slowly.” He wiggles his eyebrows when Tamamori turns to look at him, ready to point out the double meaning in that sentence.

“You’re disgusting.” But he turns back to see that Kamenashi’s progress in getting to them has been great in the last few seconds. He doesn’t want to think about the complications of _Kamenashi _kissing him.__

As if on cue and in tune to Tamamori’s distress, Miyata comes up and asks Tamamori if he wants to get coffee with him from the vending machine. He can’t say yes fast enough, nearly clinging to Miyata’s arm and walking as fast as he can. The effort makes his body heat up and has him snatching that hat off his head, not nearly as cold as before.

He spends the next week eyeing Senga, the only one left aside from Miyata, who’s clearly immune to whatever pheromones Tamamori is putting off. Perhaps Senga is immune, too, which is honestly fine with Tamamori. None of the others have come back for seconds either, so Tamamori finally feels comfortable again in his own group.

“Tama-chan,” Senga approaches him at the end of the day, and Tamamori almost face-palms because here it begins. “Let’s hang out tonight.”

“Um, okay,” Tamamori replies, trying not to look too suspicious. It’s possible that Senga has no ulterior motives; at least, none of the others _asked him out_ first.

Senga’s grin is bright enough to wash away all of Tamamori’s worries. “Yay! We’ll have a lot of fun.”

They grab a quick bite to eat from a takoyaki stand since it’s unnaturally warm outside, at least enough where they don’t have to be bundled like they’re dog-sledding in the arctic. It’s nice spending time with Senga, catching up on each other’s families and mutual interests as they walk around town. Senga mentions a movie he’s been wanting to see, but Nikaido won’t go with him because it’s one of those chick flicks. Not because he doesn’t like chick flicks, but because he doesn’t want to be seen at one.

Chick flicks are nothing compared to Miyata’s anime, so Tamamori agrees and they’re two of six people in the entire theater, a pair of girls closer to the front and an older couple about halfway down. Clearly the woman had dragged along her husband or boyfriend because he was already mostly asleep in the seat. Senga picks seats in the back and they settle in, watching the previews

“So do you want to talk about it?” Senga asks quietly, and Tamamori freezes.

“Talk about what?”

Senga elbows him playfully. “Why you’ve been staring at me.”

Suddenly it’s very cold in the theater. “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then?” Senga asks curiously. “Word gets around, you know. Especially when it involves Kitamitsu’s big mouth.”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Tamamori blurts out, turning to look at Senga with what he hopes are pleading eyes. “Everyone just keeps throwing themselves at me, Kitamitsu thinks I’m on drugs, and Kamenashi wants to eat me.”

Senga bursts out laughing so loudly that the dozing man sits right up in his seat. The movie hasn’t started yet, but Tamamori’s embarrassed all the same. “I have to admit, I’m kind of sad,” Senga says. “Whatever makes you irresistible to them clearly isn’t working on me.”

“Wow, thanks,” Tamamori mutters, feeling crushed. “You’re not much to look at either.”

“You know that is not what meant,” Senga says pointedly, elbowing Tamamori again. This time Tamamori elbows back and they both laugh until the movie starts and they get shushed by the girls.

The movie is funny enough to keep Tamamori’s attention, though that may just be Senga’s commentary. The theater is ridiculously cold, though, his ears freezing at the top before he digs out his hat. Senga notices and makes fun of him, but Tamamori just rolls his eyes and pulls on the hat anyway.

“Oh,” Senga whispers, and Tamamori recognizes the hitch in his breath.

Tamamori doesn’t even try to fight it when Senga leans over the arm of the seat and presses their lips together, he knows he’d lose—even if it has nothing to do with Senga being stronger than him. It’s not nearly as rushed and aggressive as the others, almost as if Senga’s being shy about the whole thing, which has Tamamori controlling the kiss. He licks along Senga’s bottom lip and then his way into Senga’s mouth once he parts it.

A soft moan comes from that back of Tamamori’s throat when Senga leans in more, deepening the kiss, and licks Tamamori’s teeth while a hand easily finds it’s way between Tamamori’s legs and squeezes him through his pants. His hips jerk toward Senga’s hand against his will, already hard. Senga already has his next course of action planned when Tamamori breaks the kiss to breathe.

That can’t be comfortable, Tamamori thinks watching at Senga leans down over the arm, having it dig into his stomach, wasting no time in opening Tamamori’s jeans. He hisses when the cool air makes contact but his discomfort dissipates when Senga coils his fingers around him, and a tongue is licking at the head of his cock.

Tamamori grips onto the other arm of the theater chair tightly, knuckles turning white from the force of it, while Senga slowly takes all of him into his mouth. None of the girls he’s kissed before have ever done this. He has to cover his mouth with his free hand when Senga takes him all the way in, hitting the back of his throat just barely.

Senga pulls back and leans his head on Tamamori’s thigh before moving himself completely from Tamamori and setting in a crouch between the small space between Tamamori’s legs and the chair in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Tamamori hisses, trying to pull at Senga’s arm. Dark theater or not this is beyond not cool, making Tamamori’s stomach bubble with panic at the thought of them getting caught in public.

One of Senga’s hands slide up along Tamamori’s thigh as Senga shushes him, saying it’ll be okay, setting on his hip while another curls around his cock again. Senga’s lips wrapped around the head, tongue flicking against the slit. Tamamori melts into the chair, hips jerking forward, seeking more of Senga’s hot, wet mouth.

Tamamori doesn’t last long. Senga’s fingers making up for what he can’t fit in his mouth, tongue doing wicked things that Tamamori’s never even thought about before. Choking back a moan, Tamamori releases in Senga’s mouth, some spilling over onto his lips.

Not thinking, Tamamori pulls Senga up and fuses their mouths together, tasting himself on Senga’s tongue as Senga begins to rub himself off on Tamamori’s thigh fast. Shuddering when his orgasm hits, falling from Tamamori’s mouth, Senga presses his head onto Tamamori’s shoulder before slowly moving back to his seat.

“It’s the hat,” Senga mumbles, and Tamamori pauses as he stretches his arm around Senga—what people are _supposed_ to do in movie theaters.

“What?” Tamamori whispers.

“I’ll prove it. Take it off.”

Slowly Tamamori reaches up and pulls off the hat, and instantly Senga makes a face and puts distance between us. “No way. You’re making this up.”

“Seriously,” Senga tells him. “I have absolutely no attraction toward you right now.”

Tamamori stares at him as he pulls the hat back on. That flash in Senga’s eyes is even visible in a dark theater and he nearly gets knocked backward as Senga throws himself at him. Experimentally, Tamamori takes off the hat while they’re kissing and Senga falls from his mouth, clearing his throat uncomfortably and returning to his seat.

“I can’t believe this,” Tamamori says.

“Believe it,” Senga tells him, shrugging as he wipes his mouth. “So I guess if you ever want to get some, you know what to do.”

Tamamori thinks about that throughout the rest of the movie. When they go to leave, he starts to put on the hat again, but he catches the anxious look Senga gives him and stuffs it into his pocket. He’ll just have to have cold ears for the rest of the day.

Despite the interesting side effects, Tamamori can’t bring himself to destroy the hat. It’s really fucking comfortable, but at the same time he doesn’t want complete strangers to pounce him on the street. Maybe he will take Senga’s advice and only bring it out when he feels like getting off. It will certainly save him a lot of effort.

Several days go by and Tamamori doesn’t think about the hat again until the next time he’s at Miyata’s place. They’re just hanging out, relaxing after a rough day of work when Tamamori suddenly sits up and looks down at Miyata.

“What?” Miyata asks, appearing completely unnerved at being under scrutiny like this.

“Why didn’t my hat work on you?” Tamamori asks.

Miyata blinks. “Work on me?”

“Yeah.” Tamamori flushes a little. “Everyone else attacked me when I wore it, but you just looked at me like you normally do.”

“That’s because I’m already attracted to you,” Miyata says clearly, looking right into Tamamori’s eyes.

Tamamori scoffs. “Don’t be gross.”

Shrugging, Miyata leans up on his elbows, bringing him face to face with Tamamori. “I already have to stop myself from crossing that line with you on a daily basis, so the hat wouldn’t have made much of a difference.”

Tamamori tries to laugh at that, but it gets caught in his throat, making him look away from Miyata and cast his gaze at the floor. “Is that so?”

Instead of answering, Miyata closes the space between them, leaving a chaste kiss on Tamamori’s lips. It’s a huge contrast to the weeks of heavy making out with the rest of the group, feeling like one of those kisses girls give in middle school, full of hesitation. “It did bother me, though. Seeing the after effects of all the others getting to make out with you,” he mumbles against Tamamori’s lips.

“There was more than making out,” Tamamori says, putting some distance between them. “Gaya and I—” He turns a dark shade of red, shifting on Miyata’s bed and leaning his back against the wall. “Do I have to say it?”

Miyata stis up leaning against Tamamori’s side, peering at his face. “No, but—”

Tamamori cuts him off, grabbing Miyata by the face and kissing him. It’s just a spur of the moment, but something turns in his stomach when he does, telling him to do it again. The feeling moves up to his chest, swelling when Miyata kisses back, gripping Tamamori’s elbow, and a hand warm on his neck.

“Tama wait,” Miyata says, pushing Tamamori away ever so slightly, leaving a hair’s breath between them. Miyata’s lips brush against Tamamori’s as he speaks. “Are you okay with this?”

Tamamori makes a sound in the back of his throat but sits back and looks over Miyata’s face, seeing every inch of it wants this more than anything. Miyata’s eyes bore into Tamamori’s own, full of so much and it makes Tamamori nod, crushing their lips together again just like Yokoo had when they were on the first escape, teeth knocking against each other making Miyata hiss just before Tamamori’s tongue is shoved into his mouth.

Kissing Miyata is different than kissing the others. While before, Tamamori was gradually worked up to it, it’s the thought of being _with_ Miyata that has him acting on his own. Bringing Miyata close and nipping at his bottom lip, dragging his teeth over it, then kissing at Miyata’s jaw, his neck, every inch of skin he can reach.

“Is there anything you _didn’t_ do with them?” Miyata asks, unable to stop kissing Tamamori long enough to speak. “Something that I can have that none of them had?”

“Yeah,” Tamamori replies, his nerves singeing as he considers his next words. “None of them went inside me.”

“ _Tama_.” Miyata’s almost whining, stretching his neck at Tamamori’s accosting. “Do I have a magic hat or something?”

“Hey.” Tamamori leans back, inhaling sharply at Miyata’s hooded eyes and the faint tint of pink on his cheeks. “I’ve had a lot of meaningless kisses lately, okay. Yours is real and I can feel it.”

Shaky fingers touch his jaw, sliding back behind his ear, and Tamamori shivers as Miyata’s face breaks out into that goofy smile that Tamamori both hates and loves. “We don’t have to go that far,” he says. “I’ve waited so long already, I can wait longer.”

“Well now that we’re talking about it, I want to do it,” Tamamori tells him, pulling him back into his mouth. “I haven’t done it like that, have you?”

“Um, yeah,” Miyata answers sheepishly. “I’ve always wanted you, though.”

“Show me,” Tamamori says, looping his arms around Miyata’s neck. “Show me now.”

Miyata shows Tamamori more than he can ask for, gently lying Tamamori back on his bed and kissing everywhere. He takes things slowly, pulling so many different sounds from Tamamori, sounds the other has never heard before. Breathy moans asking for more as Miyata pulls Tamamori’s shirt over his head, fingers dancing along the expanse of bare skin, making Tamamori’s breath hitch.

Arms braced on either side of Tamamori’s head, Miyata looks down at him, straddling his waist and taking in just the flushed sight of Tamamori. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Tamamori makes a face, turning even darker, but wraps his arms around Miyata’s back and pulls him back down to kiss him, just so Tamamori doesn’t have to look at that face that adores him so much and feel even more vulnerable than he already does.

Melting into Miyata’s touch, Tamamori has to work to keep his eyes open, watching as Miyata kisses along his stomach, rubbing circles into his hip while slipping in that first slick finger. It’s cold against his skin, making Tamamori jump, almost kneeing Miyata in the head. He quickly brings his hands up and sifts them through Miyata’s hair, gaining low encouraging sounds as his nails rake Miyata’s scalp.

It feels impossible to do this, with Miyata’s only one finger deep but then Tamamori feels Miyata’s fingers on his free hand wrap around him, another distraction to keep him from focusing too hard on the prodding finger. Miyata’s lips brush lightly against Tamamori’s skin, soft words telling him to relax and that it’ll feel better. His voice is a low whisper that Tamamori can pick up over his own breathing, enjoying the way Miyata’s hand feels around him, fingers warm and strong.

It feels like forever before Miyata finally pulls away. Tamamori whines at the loss of contact while Mitaya opens and puts on a condom, hissing at the touch. He crawls up and presses a kiss to Tamamori’s lips. “Ready?” He asks, and Tamamori can’t say yes fast enough, feeling everything in just one word from Miyata.

Having spent so long preparing Tamamori, Miyata slips past his entrance easily, giving a low groan. Tamamori forces his eyes open, looking up at Miyata’s face.

“You okay?”

Tamamori doesn’t answer, wrapping his arms aronud Miyata’s neck and pulling him down, crushing their mouths together and rocking his hips, telling Miyata to move.

Keeping the tender touches from before, Miyata pulls out slowly until only the head of his cock is in and gives another slow thrust in. He works up the pace slowly, not hitting Tamamori where he wants it. “Faster,” he breaths into Miyata’s neck, hands tight in Miyata’s hair. “Move faster, Toshiya.”

Miyata has a protest ready on his lips, but Tamamori’s rolling his hips, meeting Miyata’s efforts pulling a moan from the back of his throat. “Yuuta.”

As far as first sexual experiences go, Tamamori feels this would go at the top of the list as Miyata brings him off, fingers coiled around his cock and thumb at the slit. He spills onto his stomach over Miyata’s fingers, tightening around Miyata who’s giving a few more thrusts before coming as well, riding out his orgasm until all he can do is press a sloppy kiss to Tamamori’s face, missing his lips.

“I don’t need a magic hat to be in love with you,” Miyata says into the corner of his mouth, and Tamamori clings to him more tightly.

The next time they all get together, Tamamori happily announces why he’s been so irresistible lately and there’s a collective sigh of relief throughout the room.

“Wait,” Nikaido says slowly, putting two and two together. “You made out with _all_ of us?”

“And then some,” Fujigaya mutters; next to him, Kitayama grins.

“What the hell, I only got a kiss,” Nikaido huffs.

“I got _interrupted_ ,” Yokoo says, a little bitterly.

Senga stares at the floor and says nothing.

“You guys are talking like you wanted more,” Tamamori points out, both scandalized and smug.

Kitayama shrugs. “You’re a good kisser.”

“Yeah he is,” Nikaido adds, touching his lips in memory.

“Well, too bad,” Tamamori finds great joy in telling them, “because I’ll only be kissing one person from now on and it’s not any of you.”

Arms wrap around him from behind and he shrugs them off, rolling his eyes.

“Not in front of them,” he mutters over his shoulder, but can’t bring himself to move.

“Aw,” Kitayama says. “I guess it wasn’t a complete waste after all if it led you to Miyacchi.”

“Whatever,” Tamamori grumbles, squirming when Miyata hugs him tighter.

Maybe he’ll burn the hat after all, he thinks. It _is_ pretty fucking ugly.


End file.
